


emptiness in harmony (homeward bound)

by liminal



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminal/pseuds/liminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe, in that brief moment when Clint is tackled by sticky-handed hugs, it’s him that they hate. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>A super-soldier, a Norse god, a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and a revolutionary scientist walk into a room. Clint Barton has them all beat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	emptiness in harmony (homeward bound)

It’s not that they hate kids. Maybe Tony doesn’t get the appeal of being financially and emotionally committed to something that shits and screams and scribbles over everything. Maybe Bruce, still lacking in his own self-control, finds the idea of being responsible for someone else terrifying at best. Maybe Thor sees two little children running around and playing together, and can't help but be reminded of a different set of siblings, two little boys who grew apart and grew into causing each other grief. Maybe Steve still dreams of a four-bed house of his own, with a dark haired wife keeping him on his toes and little ones waking him up at ungodly hours, and the Barton household is yet another reminder that life hasn't turned out the way he thought it would. 

But none of them hate the kids.

Maybe, in that brief moment when Clint is tackled by sticky-handed hugs, it’s him that they hate. What Clint lacks in superpowers and divinity, he makes up for with a home, a family and the sense of stability that the others crave.

Here, there’s no TV after nine and everyone helps with the dishes and the laundry is overflowing with grass-stained t-shirts. The fridge door is plastered with sports team photos and academic certificates, but pride of place goes to a recent family photo, where everyone's pulling silly poses and someone's painted a smiley face painted onto Mom’s bump, so Nathaniel-to-be can join in the fun. 

Here, Clint is latched onto, smothered in kisses, deafened by questions and giggles. Did you see my new painting? Did you fix the train? Are you staying home now? Clint isn't Agent Barton, he's Daddy, and Hawkeye hangs up his bow and arrows by the front door when he comes in.

Here is a family and in front of them stand grown men seeing happiness but remembering absent fathers, dead fathers, fathers whose primary role wasn’t playmate and tickle-monster and master macaroni maker.

Thor crushes a plastic toy beneath his feet and backs away from the scene of the crime. Tony splutters and mutters about getting a reformed JARVIS to scan these "tiny S.H.I.E.L.D. agents". Bruce looks like he’s not sure whether he’s going to faint or hurl, and Steve feels the ground slip away from under him. 

Because while their world can be frightening and traumatising, it's all they have come to know. And for these renegades, nothing is as terrifying as settling, as the ordinary, as a life beyond the routine they have all fallen into. 

Domesticity isn’t something any of them thought they would ever find. Their world simply doesn’t involve children: it's about the future, it its most abstract sense. Their world is midnight calls to action and purple bruises, deception and betrayal and hard truths - nothing that children should have to see or know about. But Clint, one hug and high-five at a time, is turning the tables, showing them it’s possible. He’s making the future about the children in a tangible, obvious way - it's about these children, the ones he has a duty to come home to.

Thor storms out, Bruce retreats upstairs, Tony sulks, and Steve goes through the motions, timing the dull thump of blade splitting wood with his heartbeat until the need to feel something overwhelms him, and he sends splinters flying with his bare hands.

-

Fighting is second nature to all of them, except now they’re not just fighting to keep themselves alive and the world safe. Now there’s a house in the countryside, two kids and a pregnant wife to take into consideration whenever Clint gets too close to the edge.

Pietro throws himself in front of Clint and the girl he went back to save without a second thought, because if anything’s worth dying for, it’s family- and a man who would risk his own to save someone else’s. Domesticity has invaded the very core of the Avengers, and its consequences are world shattering.

-

There’s a mass pilgrimage to the hospital when baby Nathaniel is born, and Wanda swears there aren’t tears in her eyes when Clint tells her the baby’s full name. Tony has huge wicker baskets full of premium baby supplies and alcohol delivered to the ER room, Nat brings a baby blanket in the same shade of electric blue as her wristlets, and Steve brings a bouquet of flowers and a friendly if slightly rueful smile.

The nurse chivvies everyone but immediate family along when the room becomes too packed, and the Avengers stand together in the hallway. Steve stands slightly apart, looking at those that came today - a befuddled scientist, a super-spy, a Norse god, a vet with metal wings and a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, and he knows that where they go, he’ll go too.

Steven Grant Rogers, orphaned in his teens and frozen in his twenties, finds a home in the people standing around him. Let Clint have his ankle-biters and two-storey hideaway with an overflowing laundry basket and golden medals from sports days. Steve has people, and his home is built around them.


End file.
